


Deeper Than Skin

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Roller Coaster, Established Relationship, F/M, Fem!Bones - Freeform, Filthy, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Content, Transporter Malfunction, idefk, sort of...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len hated the transporters. He hated them even more when he went from being a healthy male human to being a healthy female human. </p>
<p>As for Jim - Len's not sure what Jim thinks of the whole thing, but he's prepared to assume the worst rather than ask. Which, of course, is the <i>best idea ever.</i></p>
<p>(Or: Len gets turned into a woman and he and Jim are still shit at the communication thing even after years of marriage.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deeper Than Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This is _still_ one of the filthiest things I've ever written.

Jim had to hand it to his husband. Len had done really well managing his aviaphobia their two and a half years out in the black. Hell, Jim had expected more bouts of puking than that first shuttle ride to the Academy, and anything but was a pleasant surprise. There were, however, still issues with the transporter.

Namely, Len avoided it like the plague and only grudgingly went when he absolutely had to. It helped if Jim was there, in the transporter room with him; it _really_ helped when Jim was actually on the pad next to him. However, Len had been beamed down alone to assist at a medical facility currently overloaded on a planet looking to become part of the Federation. Jim had taken care of the Federation part, and Len had taken care of the assistance part. 

Now it was just a matter of waiting for Len to have cleared up enough to be beamed back, to which Jim had made sure he was there in the room so he’d be the first thing his husband would see when he opened his eyes after re-materializing. And Len didn’t think that Jim knew he closed his eyes every time he stepped on the pad.

_One to beam up, Scotty._

“Aye, Doc,” Scotty said, pressing a few buttons. There was whir and clunk that didn’t sound entirely healthy, and Jim found himself coming to stand near Scotty’s shoulder. 

“Scotty…”

“Got him, whatever that was,” the Scot said, and they both looked at the figure that had materialized on the pad. Scotty’s mouth dropped open; Jim’s head tilted to the side as if to verify that yes, indeed, the person standing there was his husband…sort of…

Len opened one eye and then the other, heaving a sigh of relief from his position on the pad that sounded a little funny to his own ears. Truthfully, everything felt a little funny…like something wasn’t right. He looked over at Jim and Scotty’s stunned expressions and tensed, his mind traveling to every horrible possibility that it could think of - missing limbs, two heads, multiple sets of arms – and almost gave himself a panic attack. He took several deep breaths and said, “What?” 

Only, his voice didn’t sound right and was definitely higher, and he was damn sure he wasn’t freaking out that badly…

“Len?” Jim said, creeping closer. 

Len unclenched his fists and the weight on his left hand slid off his finger and onto the pad under his feet with a clink. He looked down, surprised to see his wedding ring had literally fallen off his finger. He bent to pick it up, pausing at the sight of his own hands – long fingers, smaller palms. He took his ring up and realized that it was too big for where it belonged. It was then that he truly looked at himself, his heart kicking double-time at the realization that he had curves in places he was most definitely not supposed to have them. He looked at his husband, wide-eyed and shaking, and his mind decided yes, this was a little too much to handle, combined with transporter travel, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

Jim had made it to the transporter pad and, by some struck of luck, Len fell forward instead of back when he passed out, and right into Jim’s waiting arms. Len was light, the weight easily managed and Jim took off toward the infirmary. 

Scotty looked from the empty transporter pad to the door and back, before quietly getting up and stepping closer. Before he called a team of engineers down to start working on just what the hell had happened, he picked up the circle of silver that symbolized everything between the Captain and the Doctor, and slipped it into his pocket to be returned to the man – woman – who it belonged to.

* * *

Jim had sat by the bedsides of many of his crew after a mission gone wrong, and there the guilt he had over the role-reversal was usually only alleviated by the strong hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortably to let him know that everything was going to be all right, that whatever ensign, officer, or yeoman currently on the biobed would be just fine. That was Len’s job, as CMO, to patch up the crew for the next go round. His job as a husband was to keep Jim himself in working order when he came back bruised, to anchor him when he drifted, and to love him come hell or high water. Jim had been distinctly adamant about having that in their vows, but Len had managed to _Dammit, Jim_ the notion out of him and they’d gone with something fairly traditional that fit the pair of them perfectly. And all of it had been compressed into twin circles of silver – the silent reminder they wouldn’t part for anything less than death and a promise to each other to always come home (or give the best damn effort possible).

Which explained why Jim was sitting on Len’s right, instead of his left. He kept looking at his own hand, his own ring, and although Scotty had returned it to sickbay – to Jim – it wouldn’t stay on Len’s hand and he’d be damned if he even thought about potentially losing his husband’s wedding ring.

_Husband,_ Jim thought, eyes wandering from the hand entwined with his, up the blue-clad arm and unerringly over the different terrain on Len’s chest. Namely, Len actually _had_ a chest now. From Jim’s point of view, his husband – wife? – now had a set of breasts. Not too big, not too small, probably just right for the size of Jim’s hands. Which would make sense considering, in the early stages of their relationship, Jim had always felt that he and Len were _made_ for each other. The way that Jim would end up tucked up against Len’s front or side when they relaxed together, the way they fit so perfectly when one slid home in the other when they made love – they fit. 

Now the hard lines he was used to seeing, to mapping with his hands or his tongue, were replaced with softer curves. It was sort of…throwing him. Jim loved Len for Len, he _knew_ that, but seeing his…significant other in a different form was something he was going to have to get used to. And if he was going to have to get used to it _Len_ was going to have to get used to it, as well. Which would mean quite a bit of freak-out time on Len’s end, and, he would probably want to do so in private. Away from Jim. 

Which put Jim in the dilemma of wanting to be there for his hus – wif - the person he married, damnit, and wanting to give Len the amount of space that he – she – needed to work through the awkwardness that this was no doubt going to cause. 

Len made a noise deep in her throat that went straight through Jim and to his lower belly – which he firmly clenched down on, because this was going to be awkward enough without _involving anybody’s_ libido, let alone his – and turned her head in Jim’s direction, blinking her eyes open. 

If Jim hadn’t known it was Len on the bed the eyes would have assured him. Len eyes, though a little bigger, were still the same expressive hazel he was used to. Her bangs fell over her forehead and eyebrows, and only served to make her all the more attractive to Jim. 

“Hey,” Jim said, unfolding himself from the chair but never breaking contact with her hand. He pushed her hair back from her forehead, noting with a small smile her eyebrows were still able to convey a thousand messages though they were more feminine. He wanted so much to kiss her, reassure her that everything was all right. What stopped him was that he wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be to him right then. 

“Jim..” she said. She squeezed his hand. “I hate transporters. I really fucking hate them.”

Jim chuckled. “I know. How do you feel?”

She glared at him, the expression strikingly familiar but different. “I’m a woman - how do you think I feel?”

_Open mouth, insert foot, as usual,_ Jim thought, looking at their joined hands. “I’ve got something for you.”

 

Len looked at him curiously, missing the heat of his hand when he let go to dig around his pocket, and curiously wondered why Jim hadn’t done something more…Jim-like. She’d been expecting a kiss, a hug, something tactile from her husband and she’d gotten…a hand-hold. A hand-hold and a pair of blue eyes that said he didn’t really know how to handle this. 

The only thing keeping Len from freaking out was the fact that he’d woken up in his own Sickbay and Jim had been by the bed. Everything past that was up for debate.

Len curled his – her – fingers and immediately brought the left up to look at it. “Jim – “

“Right here, Bones,” he said, holding up a silver necklace with a very familiar ring on it. “Your…your fingers are a little thinner.”

She sat up, ignoring the slight head rush, but made no move to take it from him. Instead, she turned her shoulder. Jim took a breath, willed his hands to not shake, and fastened the necklace around Len’s neck. That was all he meant to do, but somehow ended up pressing a kiss to the top of her spine and then nosing her hair, to see if – yes, Len smelled the same as Len always did, and Jim felt some of the tension in his chest loosen. 

“Tell me Scotty can fix this,” Len said softly as she leaned back, trusting Jim not let her fall off the bed. 

“He’s working on it,” Jim said, sliding his arms tentatively around her. His thumb accidentally brushed against the underside of her breast and she jerked instinctively. Jim retracted his hands, settling them on the bed on either side of her and telling himself it was all right, that Len had to get used to the body she wore and it would get better. 

Self-conscious of her new attributes, Len folded her arms over her chest, wincing when she squished her new breasts (they were a little sensitive) and took a deep, even breath, hoping to calm down. She could feel Jim against her back, the weight of the wedding ring that was supposed to be on her finger now against her chest, mashed between her new…addition. 

“Who’s on duty?” she asked, wondering how long it would take to get used to her new voice, the nasty voice in the back of her head (it sounded oddly like the original male version of her) wondering if she would _ever_ get used to it. 

“M’Benga,” Jim said, his hands itching to hold her. He hated the timidity in her voice, the uncertainty. He wanted to reassure her with touch, the way they reassured each other that actually honestly _sunk in_ and hated his own hesitancy. His fingers tightened on the edge of the bed, knuckles white. “He says to take as long as you need to…” he stumbled for the right word to use. 

“Get used to it?” Len filled in for him, self-deprecation loud and clear. 

Jim dropped his forehead onto her shoulder so she could feel him nod. 

“You should get back to the bridge,” she said after another long, awkward, silence that Jim couldn’t ever remember them having, even in the beginning of their relationship. Her voice was careful, neutral, and Jim knew a pleading dismissal when he heard one. 

He stepped away from the bed. She didn’t turn to face him. 

“I’ll see you at home,” he said, and turned and left. 

Len reached up, closing her fist around her wedding ring and tried to breathe normally. When she felt under control enough, she slid off the biobed, giving herself time to let her legs get a little steadier before heading out of the isolation room that she’d been placed in – probably for her privacy – and into the main Sickbay. Predictably, there were quite a few stares, and she could tell her cheeks were flaming by the time she reached the sanctuary of her office. She initiated privacy mode and her body curled up in her desk chair of its own accord without one reach to the bottle in the bottom drawer of the desk. She thought of what she had: a new level of hate for the transporter, all the trimmings that came with a woman’s body, and a hurdle in her otherwise happy marriage that she couldn’t very well clear by herself. 

And Jim? Oh, Lord, she didn’t even want to think about that. They were pretty shitty communicators on a good day – and now this? If there had ever been a decent reason for divorce, this was one for the ages. She knew Jim loved Len because of all that Len was – had told her that very fact the night that he’d proposed, when she’d been a man – and had promised to love her through anything, stand by her through anything, but this was pushing it. 

This was something she had absolutely no idea how to handle, and that scared her more than anything, including losing her husband.

* * *

Len didn’t come home that night.

Jim had no idea where she’d slept (most likely the cot in her office) but she hadn’t come home and that cut Jim to the core. He hadn’t slept well, and he was angry with himself for sleeping at all. And, once he’d gotten on shift and was seated in his chair with some time to think, he was even angrier that he hadn’t gone back to Sickbay and dragged Len back to their room, since he was positive she hadn’t slept well, either. They never could when they slept alone, something they’d discovered the first time they’d gone to bed angry. 

Despite his brain being other places, he’d sent out a ship-wide message explaining that there had been an incident with the transporter and that Doctor McCoy was now female instead of male. He’d wanted to tack on a _Don’t stare like morons, or you’ll have her husband to deal with_ but he hadn’t, because the traitorous thought of _not_ being married to Len had entered his head. Would she divorce him over this? Lord knew she didn’t want to touch him – hell, she probably didn’t want to see him, either, which is why she hadn’t come home the night before.

He _refused_ to the think about the amount of time he was going to spend with his right hand, too. 

Jim made it to lunch, the bridge oddly silent as the crew followed the example of its captain, and Jim hadn’t said much. He sat down at the table in the mess that he sat at with Len and stared at the empty chair across from him while gnawing on his bottom lip, his fork resolutely pushing the macaroni and cheese around his plate. This was so wrong on so many levels.

“Captain?”

He jerked in surprise and looked up at Spock, the Vulcan standing perfectly straight, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Spock,” he said, and his First Officer took a seat across from him.

“I thought I might inquire about Doctor McCoy,” the Vulcan said.

Jim thought it was a very good thing he hadn’t actually eaten anything because his stomach flopped. “Why haven’t you asked her instead?” He barely kept his voice civil.

“I did not feel as though he would honestly answer me, and, because of your marriage, thought you would know as well as anyone the current state of your significant other.”

_Shit._ Jim scrubbed a hand over his face. “There’s nothing wrong with her. M’Benga’s run every medical test he can think of, and even some that he couldn’t that Len did, and there’s nothing wrong with her. It’s like she’s been female all her life.” He prided himself on the fact that he kept his tone neutral and calm. He also didn’t point out that Len hadn’t told him that – he’d talked with M’Benga and read the report. “I – I need to get back to the bridge. I’ll see you later, Spock.” Jim picked up his tray and beat a hasty retreat back toward the bridge, his chair, and where he could immerse his mind in thoughts other than why the man he married, despite being trapped in woman’s body, didn’t want to speak with him.

Spock sat at the table a moment longer, calculating how long it would take Jim to run himself into the ground, and pondering if he should approach Nyota with concerns he would normally consult Dr. McCoy on.

* * *

Len figured her cheeks were going to take on a permanently red hue by the end of this whole ordeal. She had her arms crossed over her expanded chest, staring at the thing in Chapel’s hands like it was going to leap up and bite her. She looked at her head nurse, eyebrow heading for her hairline, and did her best to glare.

“Don’t give me that look, Len,” Chapel said, reverting back to her actual name, if shortened, which made her feel a little more normal. “You honestly can’t go walking around without one on.”

Len narrowed her eyes. 

“Let’s see if this one fits or we have to try another size,” Christine said a little too happily for Len’s taste, motioning for him to turn around. Len heaved a sigh and complied, pulling her shirts over her head, refusing to look at her new chest, and returning her arms to their original positions. Until Christine flopped the ridiculous thing over Len’ shoulder and then she had no choice but to put it on. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp in the back, and Christine took pity on her.

“How’s that feel?” Chapel asked, and Len gave his right breast an experimental poke through the bra cup. 

“Fine,” she grumbled, turning back around. She felt oddly exposed in front of Chapel, well aware that her still-slightly-too-large uniform pants were slipping down around her hips and that the top of her boxers (she absolutely _refused_ to don the _scrap of fabric_ that passed as female underwear) were peeking out. 

The underwear battle was one that Christine was happy to not even bring up, and she considered it a job well done that she’d gotten her boss into a bra. She smiled as Len’ tugged on her shirts again.

“And now,” Christine said, still in that perky voice that was guaranteed to set McCoy’s teeth on edge, “you won’t put somebody’s eye out when you get cold.”

Len’s glared deepened and her face reddened further. It was yet another reminder of how this body was different from her original, from her _male_ one that she desperately wanted back. For one thing, her hips were too wide, and her breasts were probably too small, and Jim would probably not appreciate the entire package. 

Which was why she was, for lack of a better term, hiding from him.

She missed him, she really did. It explained why she wasn’t sleeping well; why Jim looked like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since this whole thing had happened, but it wasn’t like Len’ was going to force herself onto her husband. Jim…Jim probably had reservations about the whole situation as well, and Len was nervous that she wasn’t good enough anymore. She didn’t need to see the expression in Jim’s eyes confirm that.

Chapel wordlessly gathered up the other sizes that she’d brought in case her originally assumption of size was wrong, and headed for the door.

“Christine?” Len waited until Chapel look at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “And have some chocolate, you’ll feel better.”

Len flushed as Christine left. Was she really that transparent? Apparently she was.

* * *

After about a week of trying to see, touch, and generally be near his…wife…Jim was almost at the end of his rope and starting to think this was one of those no-win scenarios that he hated with a passion. He also had absolutely no idea what Len was thinking or feeling, as she hadn’t said more than what was required of her as CMO (to which she was still performing above and beyond her ability, like usual) to the Captain, and he was really starting to think that there was something wrong with _him_ since she wouldn’t come within five feet of him.

 _Am I bad husband?_ he wondered. _Am I_ still _Len’s husband?_

He looked at his macaroni and cheese and tried not to sigh. He was great at communicating, really, he was – he dealt with diplomatic situations, had to converse with the Admiralty, which, honestly, was no small feat of patience even on his good days, and he enjoyed a happy, communicative marriage.

Until his husband had been transformed into his wife by a transporter accident that Scotty was still trying to solve, even a week later. And, in that regard, he and Len had apparently stopped communicating. 

“Jim?”

Jim jumped instinctively and almost put his hand in his plate. He looked up to see Nyota sliding into the chair across from him. 

“I know it’s probably not any of my business, and you don’t pry into my relationship, but, what the hell is going on with you and your husband?” she said. 

This was one instance when he was not exactly thrilled with the fact that she usually got straight to the point. 

“Possibly the fact that my _husband_ is now my _wife_ and that she doesn’t want anything to do with me,” he said, tired and emotionally stressed enough to have the truth come out on the first attempt. As much as he tried though, he couldn’t help the bitterness and hurt that crept into his voice.

Nyota looked at him shrewdly. “Do you love her?”

“Of course.” He had to clear his throat so his voice wouldn’t crack. “In any form.” It was God’s honest truth, too. He loved Len. Loved the man enough to marry him. And just because Len happened to have a new exterior didn’t mean that the interior had changed. If anything, this new form was playing havoc with Jim’s libido, and he chalked it up to the fact that Len was still Len, even with a great rack attached that he hadn’t yet gotten his hands on. Also considering that it had been a very long week with him and his right hand, to say he was sexually frustrated was an understatement. 

“Then show her.”

Jim bristled. “She won’t let me _touch_ her, Nyota, so how am I supposed to show her?”

“You’re a bright one, Jim,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll think of somehow to say that you love her, because she thinks that you don’t want her now that she’s a she. So show her.”

Jim refrained from banging his head on the table because it wasn’t behavior befitting a starship captain. But only just barely.

* * *

“Doctor McCoy?”

“Spock,” she said automatically, looking up from the padd on her desk. 

Spock sat in the chair across from her – Jim’s chair – and looked at her like he was reading a book in which he already knew the answer to everything. 

“Jim misses you,” he said simply.

_But nothing is every simple with Spock and Jim,_ she thought, bristling. Still, she didn’t say a word, hoping the steel in her expression would be warning enough. 

“He misses his husband.”

“Well, his husband is technically his wife,” she said. Which she still didn’t know how to handle, truthfully, and part of her realized that it would probably be easier if she had Jim by her side to lean on because freaking out alone? Definitely not conducive to regaining an equilibrium. 

“That does not mean that his feelings for you have diminished in any way. Avoiding him says that such a thing has happened to you.”

Len narrowed her eyes. “Are you insinuating that I don’t love my husband?” Which was definitely not true, even though she was currently skittish about her body and how Jim would see her. 

“I am merely stating an observation,” he said placidly, but she could tell differently from the rise of his eyebrow. “One that many have made.”

Which meant the crew must have noticed. Her cheeks darkened. She refused to meet his eyes and went back to her padd. Spock took the hint and left, hoping that Nyota had made more progress with Jim than he had with McCoy. 

Len stared at the message light on her padd like it would bite her, and then opened it. 

_Dinner?_  
2000 – Our quarters  
Love Jim 

She bit her lip nearly bloody. It took her approximately five minutes of internal war to hit reply, and another three to write, _See you then._

 

Len punched in the access code to their quarters and stared at the table set for two – complete with candles and covered dishes. She might have figured she’d walked into some twentieth century romance movie, only instead of a bottle of wine on the table, there was a bottle of bourbon, which, oddly, made her relax. Jim stood in the doorway to their bedroom (she still thought of it as their bedroom even if they hadn’t slept together in a week), hesitance written all through his frame and tugging absently on the hem of his gold command shirt. She resisted the urge to adjust her medical blues and instead moved for one of the chairs. He took that as incentive to move away from the doorway, and across from her. 

“Hi, Len,” he said, uncovering her plate for her as she sat. Chicken parm – one of their mutual favorites. 

“Jim,” she said, wincing as her voice came out higher than normal – well, higher than what was considered normal at the moment.

He looked at her left ear instead of her eyes. “I missed you.”

Her chest tightened. This was awkward, even for the two of them. “I’m sorry,” she blurted.

He jerked reflexively. “What?”

_Shitshitshit_ ran through her head in an annoying litany. “I’m sorry. This…I know this…I know this is hard for you…”

“Hard for me?” he said, his tone demanding and unlike any that she’d ever heard in their quarters. “You’re the one who was turned into a woman!”

She rolled her eyes, the gesture familiar even if the body wasn’t. “You’re the one who has such a problem with it!”

“Me have a problem with it? Me?” He was the picture of indignation. “You’re the one who won’t let me within five feet of you!”

“I don’t need your pity!” she snapped, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. “I’m not going to force you to be around me when you don’t want to be. When you don’t want me.”

Jim got up and for one frightening second, Len thought he was going to walk out, walk out on her and their marriage, and it would be like his divorce only uglier because there was nowhere for Len to run to in order to hide from it. Instead, Jim walked around the table, scooted her chair around to face him and knelt so they were eye level. He brought slightly shaking hands to cup her face, his palms warm and reassuring. 

“What in the hell would give you the idea that I don’t want you, Len?” he asked, blue eyes open and earnest. 

“You didn’t want to be around me,” she whispered. 

“I wanted to give you space because I wasn’t sure how you were going to handle suddenly being the opposite gender,” he said. “I’m not going to leave you.” _Show her you love her,_ Nyota’s voice said in his head. _Show her._ “Come here.”

“But, dinner –“ she protested as he levered her up out of the chair and propelled her into their bedroom. There was a standing mirror propped against the wall and he pulled her in front of it, standing behind her, a warm, solid presence. She seemed to have shrunk a little in her transformation, and that allowed him to be able to drop his chin on her shoulder and press his cheek to hers. 

“I love you,” he said, catching her eyes in the mirror. “All of you. Man or woman, Len, you’re still the one that I married.”

Her hazel eyes were wide as he worked her shirts over her head, and found her eyes again. She stood there in her black pants and bra, the top of the boxers peeking out. Jim ran steady hands down her sides, settling them on her hips, thumbs rubbing just above her waistband. 

“You’re wearin’ my boxers,” he murmured with a smile, letting his hands which felt twice the size they normally did and downright hot on her skin, run over her belly. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.” His palms cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing the sides softly through her bra. His hands continued upward, caressing her collarbone and the chain that her wedding ring hung on, his cheek pressed against hers. His fingers ghosted over her shoulders and down her back to the clasp on her bra. It was deftly undone and her breathing hitched when the fabric fell to the floor, baring her to them both in the mirror. Jim continued to let his hands to the talking for him, sliding them around her hips to the front of her slacks. They and the boxers joined the bra on the floor and she was naked as a jaybird while he was fully clothed and there was something distinctly arousing about that and her eyes dilated. 

“See how beautiful you are,” he said, wrapping one arm around her high on her chest and the other low on her belly so that his fingers could tangle in the triangle of hair that led to a place that even she hadn’t explored completely yet. He pressed closer to her so she could feel the hardness in the front of his pants against her rear. “ _You_ do this to me.”

Her breathing hitched again and she turned his arms. They met halfway and when he licked at her lips she opened to him. His arms came around her, pulling her tighter. 

“You still taste like you,” he murmured when they broke apart for air. She was lighter now, and he cupped her ass in both hands and she got the hint, jumping a little to wrap her legs around his waist so he could carry her to the bed. He put her down gently and stripped to his own underwear, and had to think of star charts and navigation to keep from coming on the spot because she looked…she looked undoubtedly like Len but in such a wanton and debauched way that it got him even harder. 

He carefully slid his knee between her thighs, hands caressing her ribcage as he kissed a path from her mouth to her collarbone. Her hands, smaller and a little more delicate, carded through his hair and her breathless noises filled the room. Len arched her back when he latched onto a nipple, and let out the most delicious moan when he gently bit the underside of her breast, sucking a hickey into existence that he knew he’d feel when she had to put her bra back on. He paused above her, resting his weight on one hand while the other slide slow and warm across her belly, down her hip and the outside of her thigh, and then crossed over. He was almost thinking this was too easy when her thighs snapped shut on his hand as it moved north again. 

Her eyes had a wild look to them, and not in the good way. 

“Have you…explored a little?”

There was the predictable eyebrow. He was really impressed it translated as well as it did.

“Um…” she turned her face away and he shifted onto his knees, leaving his hand trapped between her shaking thighs and used his other to turn her eyes back to his.

“It’s just me, Len,” he said. “Just Jim.”

Len caught his free hand, and brought it to her mouth to kiss his wedding ring, the one that she’d put there when she’d been male. Her knees shifted slowly apart, thighs following, and he laced their fingers together. 

She trembled, using their joined hands as an anchor as Jim slowly and gently felt his way around parts of the female anatomy he really hadn’t been personal to in quite a long time. He slipped a finger inside her, watching the way her eyes widened and her grip tightened on his hand. His thumb dragged over her clit and she bucked, thighs clamping around his hand again. 

“Jim,” she ground out, eyelids fluttering. Her thighs eased up again and she let Jim stroke her all the right ways. 

Once he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get his head taken off, he shifted, never once letting go of her hand, and pressed a kiss to her belly button. He wedged his shoulders between her knees, looking up at her blown hazel eyes as he propped the back of one of her legs on his shoulder. He nuzzled his afternoon stubble on her inner thigh and her breath hitched again. He rubbed his thumb over the inside of her wrist, and, with his eyes never leaving hers, pressed a kiss to her other set of lips. Her hips quivered and she moaned loud and long when he swiped his tongue along her clit before sucking on it gently. His forearm moved to pin her hips, canting her leg a little, and he proceeded to make her fall apart. 

Len clung to his hand with one of hers, the other tangling in his hair because, for as talented as Jim might have been with his mouth during a blowjob, it was _nothing_ compared to the sin he was committing on her now. She tensed and experienced for the first time what it was to orgasm as a woman – ripples and waves from the inside and it left her weak and panting. By the time she came down from her high, fluttery and trying to catch her breath, Jim had stayed between her legs and moved up her body, pressing kisses along her collarbone, his erection hot and hard through his briefs. 

She tipped his head up to meet her gaze and nodded. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, breathless and so aroused that the only blue in his eyes was a little ring around his pupil. 

She pressed her hips up against him in answer. And Jim, bless the hopeful bastard, grabbed her left hand with his right and laced their fingers together so he could reach for the pocket of his pants and the condom he’d undoubtedly put there in hopes that his spouse would let him back in. He tossed the little foil packet on the bed by her hip and she grabbed it while he struggled with his briefs. She batted his hands away when he reached for it, tearing the foil open herself and showing her confidence in her surgeon’s hands as she unrolled it, locking eyes with him. He hissed at her hands on his cock, biting his lip but not daring to close his eyes as she rolled it on him and then drew the pads of her fingertips lightly across his balls. 

He slipped between her legs again, settling into the cradle that her hips provided and nudged at her entrance. 

Len tensed more than a cat in a room full o’ rockers. 

Jim stilled, raising their joined hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. “It’s just me.” 

“I’m going to bleed a little,” she said, biting her lip afterward. 

He kissed her swollen lips. “I know. I’ll be gentle.” He didn’t move, though. He waited. He waited for her, waited for her to tell him it was okay, and he’d wait all night if he had to. Which they both knew. 

“I love you,” she said, raising her legs to wrap around his waist. 

Jim shivered at the trust she had in him and slid slowly but surely into her tight heat that, while he’d been in Len as a man many a time, this was completely different and tighter and he kissed away the grimace on her face because she was indeed virgin tight. She quivered beneath him, and he waited, letting her get used to him, nuzzling at her neck to distract her from the discomfort that she was feeling. Her hands wandered over his chest and back, and she could feel when he twitched as she ran a nail over his nipple. She clenched around him, which he took as permission to continue, and took all the sounds she made into his own mouth, moving slow but sure. 

“Len, Len, Len,” Jim panted in her ear, nibbling on the lobe. 

She clutched at his ribcage, lost in the sensation and spiraled higher with him. She wrapped her legs around him tighter and he snapped his hips forward, rolling them on the way out, and her litany of “Jim” turned into something high-pitched and inarticulate. 

Her orgasm shot through her with a cry, and she clenched around Jim hard enough to trigger his own. His forehead dipped onto her shoulder and her legs fell back to the bed, tired but feeling incredibly well-fucked and well-loved. She ran her hands through his sweaty hair as he collected himself. He pulled out, disposed of the condom, reappeared from a quick trip to the bathroom with a washcloth. There was nothing but love and tenderness in his touch as he knelt between her legs once more, gently wiping down the inside of her thighs. She was boneless as he maneuvered them both beneath the covers and she pressed herself against his chest, the two of them fitting together just as well as they had when they were both male, sighing contentedly. 

“I missed you,” she said, knowing full well that Jim was losing the fight to stay awake. 

Jim pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips. “I missed you, too. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I know.” She pulled and prodded him until she was wrapped around him, his head pillowed on her breasts with her wedding ring pressed against the pillow instead of under his ear. She stroked his hair. “Go to sleep, Jim.”

He made a noise of contentment in the back of his throat and settled against her again. She pressed a kiss to his hair and followed him.

* * *

The twinge in her hips from sex as a female for the first time faded, and they had another week of interesting sex (against a wall, on Len’ desk, which probably wasn’t anything new, but it was more exciting as a woman) before Scotty commed them saying that he had everything figured out and that a quick transport from Medical to the transporter should have everything right as rain.

Jim gave her a thumbs up as he hastily left Sickbay to be in the transporter room. Len was left with a moment of panic and a shit ton of what-ifs – what if it didn’t work, what if he had to stay a woman for the rest of his life, what if it turned him into something else instead of male. As a result, he missed Scotty’s warning, and before he was really sure of what the hell was happening, there was the familiar white light around him and when he opened hastily shut eyes, he was on the transporter pad and fighting not to lose his breakfast. He opened his eyes and looked at Jim, who had his head cocked to the side again. 

“What?” Len asked, half afraid that something had gone _wrong_ and he wasn’t even human anymore…But when he heard his own voice, his own, very _male_ voice, then he knew that everything was all right. 

But didn’t explain why Jim was ogling him like he wanted to haul his ass to the nearest private space and fuck him senseless. 

“Welcome back, Doc,” Scotty said with a grin. 

Len gave an anemic smile and stepped off the transporter pad. He walked to his husband while unclasping the chain from around his neck and dumping his wedding ring into his palm. He offered it to Jim, who took it and slid it back on his finger where it belonged. That’s when he figured out that Jim looked completely ready to debauch him in front of an audience because his uniform was a little short and tight across his thankfully flat chest. 

Yeah, Jim made it as far as a utility closet before he dragged Len in there and started divesting him of layers. 

“Jesus, Jim,” Len muttered between kisses. “I missed my dick as much as you did but – “ The rest was lost in a moan as Jim got his hands on said body part and started stroking fast and hard. Jim dropped to his knees. “Have I mentioned that you love me?”

“You for you, Len,” Jim said. “You for you.” 

**End**


End file.
